


i had an angel.

by simpforferrets



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Lung Cancer, Mentions of Cancer, Romance, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29855268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simpforferrets/pseuds/simpforferrets
Summary: "𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥,𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬."~𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧-"I just think that if you approached the situation differently, you may feel better," she stated confidently while subconsciously twirling her hair.I dramatically sighed. "Abi, that's not how it works. You can't just 'think positive' to get rid of your depression. And when you're like me, there's not exactly anything to be positive about...""Oh." There was an awkward pause. "Well, maybe I could help you."-fate:nounthe development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power.-started : february 25thended : ?i own all characters and plot!<3
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	i had an angel.

Wake up.

Die a little on the inside.

Go to sleep.

Repeat.

They should put that on a coffee mug, or something. \- 

Sometimes, I just want to live. I want to be a normal teenager. I don't want to stay inside all day and have my parents take care of my sick-ass. I want to go places with girls. I want to go on late-night drives with my friends. I'm alive - barely - but I'm not living.

I spend all day doing online classes while my mom stays at home with me and does whatever the hell she does.

I wish she'd give me space. I know she's worried about me. _I_ would be worried if my kid had cancer. But I'm getting better and my hair is grown back, it honestly makes me feel worse to have her near me at all times.

_Can you breathe okay?_

_Ricky, talk to me, please._

_Do you need to go back to counseling?_

_Ricky, maybe you should go outside._

Mom. I love you. But give me a break. I'm eighteen, though. I'll be out of the house soon. Hopefully, my lungs don't collapse on my way out.

-

"Ricky," my mom pressed while throwing my shoes at me, "A kid your age needs to be social. To talk to people. Just go to the library or the park or-"

"Okay, I'll go to the library," I interrupted. Slightly annoyed while shoving my shoes on my feet, not bothering to undo the laces. 

I know, I know. Probably not the way you should talk to your mom. I don't give a shit.

-

Carrying around an oxygen tank sucks. Because you get constant stares from people with pitiful looks on their faces, because- you know, you can't breathe like a normal human being. It makes me want to puke, honestly.

That's why I hate going places. It's hard enough to get out of bed some days and my mom wants me to be social? Okay, Mom.

-

I didn't feel like reading, so I pulled out my laptop to look at my email. Dad was pressuring me into filling out applications. 

"Good education equals a good life, son."

Personally, I'm more focused on having a life to live right now.

I logged into my email and-

Oh shit. Stanford. An email from Stanford. I clicked on the name and wasn't as excited as I should have been. I should have shouted out to everyone that I got into Stanford University. But I just sat there, blinking at the screen.

-

**April 2018**

**Richard MacDonald**

**Dear Richard,**

**Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to the Stanford University Class of 2019.**

**Your thoughtful application and remarkable accomplishments convinced us that you have the intellectual energy, imagination, and talent to flourish at Stanford.**

-

Huh. Look at me go. Dad will be ecstatic. I kept reading and rereading the email hoping that I would get somewhat excited. Stanford is such a hard school to get into. I should be proud of myself. 

My thoughts were interrupted by the chair in front of my screeching. A girl who seemed about my age smiled at me. 

"Do you mind if I sit here..." Her voice trailed off as she looked at my oxygen tank.

"Yes. I do mind, actually." Her brown eyes snapped up to mine with worry and she immediately opened her mouth to say something but I beat her to it. "I was just joking, chill."

She sighed and let out a small chuckle before sitting down. I let my eyes drift over her face and body as she did. She was wearing a yellow sweater with a white skirt. She had sort of a rectangle body shape and a round face. She had light freckles scattered over her nose and dark brown eyes.

Good for her. She's confident.

"So, what's your name?"

My eyes snapped up to hers. She had a warm smile on her face as she waited for my answer. "Uh, Ricky."

She pulled a green, sparkling journal out of her bag that read _Happiness is not by chance, but by choice_. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Ricky! I'm Abigail, but you can call me Abi. Or Abbz. Some people even call me-" 

"It's nice to meet you, Abigail. But the library is supposed to be somewhere quiet," I hushed her as her bright smile fell from her plump lips.

"Right. Sorry," she apologized before beginning to write something into her journal.

Damn. Now I feel guilty. I picked up my phone and saw a ton of texts from my mom.

**Mum** :

Hey Ricky! Just checking in! Is everything okay? 💞💞😎🙂🥰😍🤗☺️☺️

**Mum** :

Hi! Maybe you didn't see my last text. Will you be coming home soon?

** Mum: **

I miss you baby!!

Jesus Christ.

**Me** :

Sorry, Mom. On my way.

I shoved my laptop into my bag and got ready to stand up when the girl spoke again. "Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, actually. Have a nice day, Abigail," I pushed myself out of my chair and dragged my oxygen tank with me.

"Do you come here often? Maybe I'll see you again, and we could get to know each other more!"

I turned around to look at her. "Nope, sorry. And no offense or anything, but I'd rather not 'get to know you.' Have a great day, though."

✩｡:•.───── ❁ - ❁ ─────.•:｡✩

**our time was short**.


End file.
